Meanwhile, at the lake
by flyghosh
Summary: It is odd. Slash.
1. At the Lake

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and do not purport to do so. Except Tanaka Yoshito. He is all mine.  
  
Ch.1  
At the Lake  
  
The giant squid lay languidly on the surface of the lake at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and stared up at the clouds floating lazily across the sky, reveling in the what-was-sure-to-be-momentary peace and quiet. Such moments were rare and precious, since there always seemed to be a never-ending parade of students/ professors/ Death Eaters, etc. constantly running along the banks/ holding secret meetings/ sitting around sobbing at all given times. There was never any peace along the edges of the lake, and as one that inhabited the lake, the squid was determined to enjoy all peace whenever it showed up.  
Once in a while, there might be a couple of days of slower traffic, but these periods never lasted, and the squid knew why and had even tried to cause these periods before realizing the futility of the exercise.  
As it was, there happened to be two benches placed side by side on the shores and it was because of these that there was this seeming endless stream of people interrupting the squid's solitude. Most of the time, these people would be random students who used the benches as a midnight rendezvous where they could satiate their hormonal teenage tendencies. Indeed though our friend the squid did not know this, the benches along the lake ranked even higher than the much-exalted Astronomy Tower on the list of top make-out spots that (according to the squid's opinion, at the very least, should he have known about such a thing) seemingly circulated among the students of Hogwarts.  
It would usually not be long before some morally-steadfast professor or the other would find out about the benches and would order them torn down. During these times, the squid could be seen dancing along the surface of the lake, if squid could dance, that is. As it was, what the squid was doing could be considered as more of a gleeful skimming along the surface with his head up and one eye staring with great satisfaction at the empty place where the loathed benches once were. At times like this, the squid would revel in glee for a day and then spend a couple of days praying to the Higher Deity of Squid for the relative silence to continue, but alas, such prayers went unheeded. The benches would invariably be resurrected within a matter of days and the squid would once more be forced to sink to the bottom of the lake and mope.  
In any case, whatever the status of the benches, there was solitude now, and now was all that counted. The squid had spent a blissful thirteen minutes or so contemplating the sky when his pleasant reverie was most cruelly interrupted and his quiet solitude was shattered.  
The squid rolled his one eye and got up off his back to scan the shore and find the reason for this unwelcome disturbance (and kill it if possible). His roving eye fixed upon a solitary student who, from what the squid had previously observed, was no stranger to the banks of the lake. The student was, of course, crying his head off.  
Now, this particular sight was no stranger to the squid, who had only taken up residence in the lake five hundred years or so ago, but it never failed to perturb him. In the beginning, he hadn't been as perturbed about the lack of tranquility as he had been about the students who were causing it. Contrary to popular belief, the squid was actually a pretty nice squid who couldn't bear to witness anyone else's pain. In the beginning, when the squid had just moved in, he would try to comfort those weeping students as well as he could, but it was all to no avail. Every time he had tentatively reached out to the students with a tentacle to offer them a reassuring pat on the knee, he was thanked for his compassion with a violent kick to said tentacle and a bloodcurdling scream, which was accompanied by a student running away as fast as his legs could take him. The squid realized that his presence may be alarming, and sought to be gentler in his ways, but this was to no avail either. It was a thankless job, and the squid was too frustrated after a while to continue in his attempts to befriend any of the students in this manner.  
The passing years resulted in the squid's eventual embitterment and apathy towards the students and their often sorry plights. At present, all the squid really wanted was some serenity, and a good night's sleep. But, like everything else in his life, it seemed, this was a wish that would be impossible to have come true.  
And it certainly wasn't coming true now. After some perusal, he recognized the lonely figure on the banks as one Harry Potter. Of course, the many years the squid spent at Hogwarts pretty much rendered him useless when it came to recognizing students by face, but this one was hard to forget. Even with the countless numbers of students that had paraded by the lake at some point, whom he tried to pay little if no attention to, this one could not be forgotten. He had only been hearing this student's name for the past 15 or so years, starting from when a group of robed, masked figures who were holding one of their secret meetings on the bank at the other side of the lake had mentioned Harry Potter's name about a thousand times as the apple of all discord. And the utterance of this name had gone on, until four or so years ago when it was established that the famous Harry Potter was a student at Hogwarts. Extremely curious as the squid was at this point, he kept an eye out for young Potter, and found him to be a most unremarkable specimen. The years of hearing his name mentioned as the one who had defeated the most powerful wizard till date had given the squid the idea that Harry Potter could not be less than a demi-god with an impressive physical stature. Needless to say, the squid had been most disappointed when the object of his search turned out to be a most puny individual. The squid kept up observation for a while, however, if only to see an example of the superpowers Potter was said to hold, but so far, all it seemed Potter could do was wander around the grounds aimlessly at all given hours and throw himself onto a bench weeping hopelessly. No. Not a bench. One of the benches by the lake.  
After the squid's recognition of Harry Potter, he lost all hope of getting any peace for the next couple of hours. From previous experience, the squid knew Potter's affinity for (and extreme talent at) howling in misery, and his incessant babbling to himself between sobs.  
"Great," the squid thought. "Here we go again."  
And his predictions were correct yet again.  
After a couple of minutes of (somewhat) quiet crying, Harry Potter opened his mouth to speak.  
"I don't understand why..." he started.  
"Great," the squid thought to himself again. "This is going to be a long one."  
"I just don't understand why," Harry continued, "no one likes me. I mean really likes me."  
"Hrmph," thought the squid. "I can give you a couple of reasons if you keep going on like this."  
But the soliloquy went on. "When I came here, I had friends. Real friends, who would talk to me, and want to hang out and have fun and understand me. There was never a single time Ron and Hermione would not be around...well except for that time when Ron and I were having that fight about the whole Tri-Wizard thing in fourth year, but other than that, we were always together...but now they don't even want to be near me. They're always together, always holding hands and hugging and kissing, and as much as I'm really glad that they're happy, I wish we could all hang out the way we used to sometimes.  
"Or, at least, I wish that I had someone too. Someone who would be there, so that I could have someone to talk to, and maybe even hug and kiss. But no one likes me at all...and I don't want to have to be alone for the rest of my life..."  
Harry's words trailed off into a series of quiet sobs, which the squid witnessed with both increasing sympathy and impatience. "Well, hell," the squid thought. "What on earth are you going on about? You think you have it bad, after having been alone for only, what? A couple of weeks? Well, how would you feel if you had been alone for the last five hundred years?!..."  
The squid's increasingly bitter thoughts were interrupted by a sudden wail.  
"NOOOOOBOOOODEEEEE LOOOOOOOOVES MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"  
"Oh give it up, kid," thought the squid, and sank to the bottom of the lake to wait for Potter to leave. 


	2. In the dungeons

Ch. 2

In the dungeons

Late one night, Draco found himself furiously stalking down the corridors of Hogwarts towards the dungeons where the Potions Master's office was located. He was seething, and for good reason (to his mildly twisted way of thinking at least).

Earlier that day, in Potions, he and Crabbe had been having a most blissful time tormenting the detested Gryffindor trio. Granted, it was not the most quiet form of torment, but then Filibuster Fireworks thrown into cauldrons containing botched potion-making attempts (Potter and Weasley's project, of course) from across the large Potions classroom is hardly expected to be so. But that wasn't even the point. The point was that he, Draco, had been taking part in an attempt to seriously hassle (and perhaps even hurt) a group of Gryffindors. The point was that he, Draco, was adhering to the Slytherin code of behaviour where Gryffindors were concerned. The point was that he, Draco, was trying to perpetuate the legacy of the House of Slytherin. And the point was that he, Draco, was not only stopped from doing so, but was reprimanded for it. And not only was he reprimanded, but points were taken off his house by the Potions Master, who was only the Head of the house in question! Granted, it was only three points, but Draco found this fact completely immaterial. 

Draco stopped in the corridor midway between the Slytherin dungeons and leaned against a wall, trying to catch his breath. As he had been walking, his thoughts went back to the injustice of the events of the morning, and he found himself holding his breath. After a couple of minutes of doing so, he realized that he wasn't breathing and he forced himself to stop and lean back, collect his thoughts, and be able to breathe again. But the more he collected this thoughts, the more furious he became, until he realized that his anger would simply not dissipate until he'd spoken to the traitorous Potions Master himself.

However, as he thought about what he would say to the Potions Master, and how that conversation would go, he once again started to hold his breath, but for a much different reason this time. He thought about the potential "conversation " again, and found that holding his breath was positively useless, since just thinking of what was about to happen was enough to render him breathless. He was vaguely aware of his face flushing and his legs becoming weak under him, and slipped down with his back against the wall to sit on the floor. Standing did not seem a viable option at this time, and he didn't want to risk trying to walk to Snape's office in this state. He ended up sitting there for a while trying to regain his presence of mind.

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Now, Snape and Draco had been carrying on a clandestine affair for quite some time. Being a secret affair as it was, naturally, the entire population of Hogwarts knew about it. However, what the entire population of Hogwarts did _not_ know about was the nature of this relationship. Far be it from two such Slytherins as themselves to carry on a mushy romantic affair full of roses, teddy bears and moonlit walks, of course, but the nature of their relationship went beyond the mere absence of fluff. The exchanges in their relationship were not of gifts and pretty love notes as they were of power and control. Lately, Severus had begun to tire of being the wielder of control all the time. Not only was he a professor, he was also the head of the house of Slytherin and to tell the truth, it was all getting to him. 

At the same time, Draco was sick of his own position in life. Always in the shadows of someone else, always having to take orders from someone who fancied themselves higher in the societal hierarchy. Always having to be compared to St. Potter, and falling short next to him. Draco longed to be in control, just once. Just to see what it was like.

And one day, not long ago, it seemed that all his desires were about to be realized. It was at this time that Severus and Draco had been going together for a while when one day Severus found himself too frustrated to deal with anything and went off on a long rant. The rant was about, of course, Severus perpetually having to be in control of whatever situation he was in, and how he could never give up this control and have someone else take responsibility for him for once. When he started on this, Draco had responded by retorting that it was better to always be in control than to never have control at all. 

This exchange went on for about an hour before the two realized that they might be getting onto something. And that that something might let them realize all their inner desires, and leave them with a better feeling about their station in life in general. And so it was.

Draco was now the one in full control in this relationship, and Severus established himself as submissive extraordinaire. And the two were getting along better than ever. So in truth, what the rest of Hogwarts saw as merely a clandestine relationship between a professor and a student was really much more than that. Much more indeed.

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It was the "indeed" part that Draco was thinking mostly about as he sat against the wall trying to catch his breath once more. All sorts of depraved thoughts rampaged through his head like a herd of wild elephants, leaving the destroyed remains of rational thought behind. After the stampede slowed somewhat, he realized that unless he got up to do something about the situation, however, the "indeed" part would simply not work out.

Draco picked himself off the floor, brushed off his robes and smoothed out the creases that had formed when he had sat down so rapidly. He reached up and smoothed his slightly-disheveled-with-anticipation hair down with his hand, and wished ardently that there was a mirror somewhere nearby so he could perfect the look he wanted to walk into Snape's office with, but alas, there was not a one in sight. Finally, he settled with setting his jaw in that way he knew Snape found absolutely irresistible in its ability to create the impression of extreme masculine potential in Draco (not that Draco had no masculine potential to begin with). 

Draco's eyes gleamed as he gracefully made the rest of the way to the dungeons, and the gleam only grew brighter as he stepped silently into Severus's office with the intention of taking his boyfriend by surprise. 

When Draco entered the office, Snape was in the middle of brewing what seemed to be a rather complicated potion, and was thus too engrossed to notice that there was someone else in his office other than himself. Draco took this opportunity to watch the older man as he was in his own space, and the more he watched, the more taken he got with Severus's mannerisms. 

Draco stood off to one side just inside the room, where he knew his figure would be obscured by the many shadows there always seemed to be in the dungeon, and hence would be able to observe Severus without being seen right away. He watched silently as Severus went from the counter to the cauldron and then back again to the counter to chop something else. The black cloak Severus was wearing to protect himself from the chilly draughts trailed behind him gracefully and swirled around his ankles whenever he came to a sudden stop, wrapping around his body somewhat and forming a flowing silhouette of it. Draco watched, mesmerized by the swinging cloak, for a few minutes, after which he remembered his full purpose for being in the dungeons in the first place.

"Okay, Draco," he thought to himself. "Remain focused now...it won't do you any good to let Severus see your weakness for him at this point..."

Draco took a deep breath, pulled his robes around him and emerged from the shadows.

Severus, realizing that there was someone else in the dungeons besides himself, looked up suddenly and saw Draco, who was busily emerging from the shadows.

Draco, upon seeing that Severus had noticed that he was in the dungeons, immediately put on his most intimidating look and advanced towards Severus in a manner he intended to be menacing and awe inspiring. Severus glanced at him, smiled faintly, uttered a greeting, and went back to observing the contents of his cauldron. Draco, bothered by this, advanced some more, adding a slight stomp to his steps as he did so, so that Severus would be forced to look at him again and notice his enraged expression. Severus looked up briefly, smiled again, and went back to his cauldron.

Draco was thunderstruck. His eyes bugged out wildly. Did Severus forget his position in this relationship? How dare he? The utter nerve!

"Ohhh," he thought (albeit not without a certain amount of pleasure). "Is Sevvie dearest in trouble now..."

Newly fortified by this additional thought, Draco approached Severus's work counter casually, leaned against the countertop with one elbow on it to prop him up, and watched Severus for a couple of seconds. Severus, impeded in his work by Draco's elbow lying in front of the vial of powdered unicorn horn, nudged it out of the way so he could reach said ingredient.

Draco, indignant at being shoved away so casually, quickly collected his rampaging thoughts and forced himself to look unperturbed. After all, this could be used as additional ammunition for his cause. But in order for it to be so, he had to remain cool.

Draco picked up a random eagle feather quill lying around and, leaning against the counter again, absently tickled the exposed part of Severus's wrist with it. Severus sighed deeply and lowered the flame on the magical Bunsen burner so that his potion could simmer more slowly. Resignedly, he put the ladle down and leaned against the counter, facing Draco.

"Someone seems to be in a rather playful mood," he observed out loud, rather unassumingly when the situation at present was considered.

"Patience," thought Draco, and then out loud, "Of course I am. These things happen when one is forced to be away from one's lover for extended periods of time."

Severus looked, quite frankly, amused. Usually, it would be him saying something like this before getting down on his knees and begging for Draco's attention. Rarely was the situation otherwise. It was a rather refreshing change once in a while, he thought. "Come now Draco. It's been what? Four hours? Surely we can expect you to live."

Draco was speechless. Severus wasn't taking him seriously at all! What was more, Severus was _mocking_ him! "Just a few minutes longer," he reminded himself.

"Well, of course I can _live_," he started, "but..._oops_..." Draco deliberately dropped the quill he'd been playing with. The quill landed near Severus's left foot, and he crouched down to pick it up.

"_Perfect_," thought Draco. He lifted his right foot and set it down squarely on Severus's back as he was crouched down.

Severus froze on the way up. He dropped to his knees, ducked out from under Draco's foot, and held the pristinely polished dragon-hide boot. Lowering his head, Severus kissed the leather clad toe and reverently laid Draco's foot back down on the ground. Still kneeling, Severus looked up at Draco's face, eyes full of pleading questions. Before he could ask anything, however, Draco spoke.

"Summon my broom."

"But master," Snape started to protest.

Draco knelt down in front of Severus, raised his right hand, and placed it lovingly on Severus's cheek. Severus, in need of any sort of reassurance from Draco, turned his face slightly so that he could kiss the palm of Draco's hand.

Draco let him do this, and repeated, "My broom, Sev."

Severus looked at Draco plaintively. "Why?"

Draco withdrew his hand from Severus's cheek and promptly slapped Severus so hard that his head swiveled the other way a bit before he caught it.

"You dare to question me?" he demanded icily.

Severus lowered his head and reached into his robes for his wand. Drawing it out, he held out his right hand and whispered, "_Accio_ Nimbus."

A few seconds later, the black lacquered handle of Draco's Nimbus 2001 flew into his outstretched hand. Severus looked at it for a second with some trepidation, and submissively proffered it up to his master with both hands, as one would present a sacrificial offering.

Draco accepted this offering, and briefly considered it before he put it down on the countertop next to himself. He gazed down into his quaking lover's eyes and something in him softened somewhat. "What am I doing?" he thought for a split second. "Why am I doing this? I love Sev...I don't want to hurt him. Why is it that in order to love him, I must keep hurting him? Why must I control him to have him love me? Why aren't I allowed to be vulnerable, too?"

But this vacillation disappeared as quickly as it had come on, and morphed into steely resolve without Draco really knowing why. It was just so easy to slip back into the role he was expected to play. Draco had adjusted to the idea of having certain things expected of him; it was just another part of his life. Heir to the Malfoy estate, leader of 6th year Slytherins, brilliant student, controlling lover-yes, just another role. It was only natural.

He considered Severus with newfound determination. "Do you know why you're in the position you find yourself in, Severus?" he inquired grimly.

Severus's expression grew even more pleading. He looked down and mumbled, "No...that is, I don't think..."

"That's right, Sev," Draco interrupted. "You don't think. _You just don't think!_ You certainly weren't thinking earlier today in class when you took those points off Slytherin! You didn't stop to consider my potential humiliation at all! And then, you really weren't thinking when you pushed me away five minutes ago, were you? And..." he continued, as he assumed an exaggeratedly pensive position wherein he leaned casually against the worktable and stroked his chin thoughtfully. While doing so, he wished ardently for some form of facial hair to be able to play with absently, but there were far more pressing matters at hand. "...What could you have possibly be thinking when, just two minutes earlier, you mocked my words deliberately? Oh of course, that's right¾_YOU WEREN'T THINKING_!"

Severus's eyes clouded over with helplessness. He lowered them submissively once more. "I'm sorry, Master Draco," he whispered. "Please forgive me."

"Severus, darling," Draco cooed. "Of course you will be forgiven. But you know me well enough to know that, to gain this forgiveness, there are certain conditions you must meet. Certain penances you must perform..."

"Yes, sir," Severus mumbled.

"Fair enough then," concluded Draco. "You know what to do next, I presume."

Severus slowly rose to his feet, and looking down still, started to take his cloak off as Draco watched with a combination of impatience and lust. Finally, Snape stood in front of him clad only in a pair of black boxers with a small Slytherin crest in silver above the hem on the left leg. Draco's eyes flickered to the bulge in said boxers for a moment and then travelled upward to settle on Severus's eyes which were mutely begging him to both stop and continue with the impending chastisement.

Draco, who had no intentions whatsoever of doing the former, but every intention concerning the latter, obliged Severus on this one point. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at Severus's bare feet and muttered, "_prœpedius_." Iron shackles emerged from the cold, stone floor and secured themselves firmly around Severus's ankles.

"Hold out your arms," he commanded.

Severus complied with this order and held out his arms, which Draco then bound to the broomstick by the wrists. "_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_!" demanded Draco, and the broom became airborne.

At this point, the broom hovered a mere foot above Severus's head, so his arms were outstretched loosely over his head. Draco stepped back to ponder his boyfriend's body, so enticingly bound for the moment, when he noticed said boyfriend swallowing nervously and trembling. Draco stepped toward Severus and placed his hands on Severus's slim waist. Severus flinched slightly at the touch. Draco leaned in slightly and gently kissed the hollow at the base of Severus's neck, right above his left collarbone. He remained there for a second, revelling in the closeness, and Severus laid his head down on top of Draco's so that his cheek was nestled in Draco's hair. Just for a moment.

Suddenly, Draco stepped back and flicked his wand at the levitating broomstick, which shot up a foot, hovered there for five seconds or so, thereby stretching Severus's arms painfully above his head before dropping back down to its previous position, thus letting Severus's arms relax. While the broom was at its highest position, Draco could see Severus clenching his teeth and sweat forming over his brow as he tried valiantly not to cry out.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Sev?" he asked calmly, as if the person he was asking was sitting comfortably in front of him instead of in a considerable amount of pain.

"I'm sorry, master..." gasped Severus, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

"Hmm..." contemplated Draco. "That didn't seem too sincere an apology to me."

He waved his wand at the Nimbus once more and once again, the Nimbus shot upward, and stayed there longer this time.

By the time it had descended to the original position, Severus was sweating profusely and breathing erratically, but he still had not cried out.

"Let's try this again, shall we, Sev?"

Gritting his teeth against the pain of his already aching muscles, Severus whispered, "Please Master Draco...I beg your forgiveness..._please_..."

His desperate request was answered by another quick movement of the wrist, and therefore was cut short.

"_PLEEEEEEEAASE_!!!" was the resulting scream of pain.

Draco waved his wand once more, and the bindings disappeared, the broomstick clattered to the floor, and the shackles unfastened. Severus fell to his knees, gasping for air, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks. He reached for the hem of Draco's voluminous black robes, hesitatingly brought it to his parched lips and kissed it reverently. Draco kneeled down in front of Severus once more and cradled his face between his palms. He gently wiped the salty combination of tears and sweat away, and leaned in to place his soft lips on Severus's. Draco's hands slipped down Severus's neck, over his chest, down his sides and into the waistband of his boxers in one slow, fluid movement. Severus moaned and leaned back to lay down on the clammy dungeon floor, pulling Draco on top of him while doing so. Draco's fingers hooked around the elastic of Severus's boxers, and slid them down until there was nothing between Severus and Draco but Draco's own robes. Which weren't there for long.

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Half an hour later, the two men lay on a cloak on the floor in amicable silence, another cloak on top of them to shield them from the ever present draughts. Severus lay with his cheek resting in the hollow of Draco's chest with Draco's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. This was one of the times in their relationship where it was understood that roles were not to be considered, power was to be a complete non-issue, and they could simply bask in the presence of the other. For all that this relationship precluded, it was still a tender one, and it was understood that it would always remain so.

It was during this pleasant afterglow that Draco's thoughts again shifted to the ones he was having earlier, wherein he wondered why exactly he should have to fall into the same role time after time after time. After all, it's not as if it was easy for him to have to always be the one forced to punish. For all that he wanted to be in control, causing pain was something he didn't find as pleasant as he thought he would when the dynamics of this relationship was first established. Perhaps this was because it got boring to keep having to think up new ways to keep things from getting monotonous and trite. Or maybe that it took too much time and effort to always be on his guard, looking for ways to initiate situations such as the one that had just taken place. Or maybe he just wanted to lose control in this relationship for once. Not as a permanent thing of course, since the idea of being in control had not ceased to be appealing, but just once. Just to try. To be the taker in situations where he had been giving before, and give in the situations he had been taking in. 

But how to broach this subject with Severus, who was snoring lightly on his chest by this point? That was another question altogether. 

Draco shifted a little under Severus when he felt his leg falling asleep from being pinned under Sev's. In doing so, Severus woke up slightly, yawned and shifted himself around. Draco decided to take this oppourtunity when Severus was likely to agree with anything to introduce the current dilemma in his mind.

"Umm, Sevvie," he said tentatively.

"Mmmrargrafrum..." mumbled the half-asleep Severus.

"Sevvie? Are you listening?"

"Mmm..." Severus said contentedly as he found the sweet spot to sleep in.

"Sev?"

"Mmm...sleepy..." came a muffled voice from under the mop of black hair that was resting on Draco's chest.

"Sev, can we talk for a minute?"

The mop sighed, groaned and rolled off Draco's chest to reveal Severus's tired yawn. After the gaping mouth closed, Severus wiped one had over his eyes, propped his head up on one hand, and turned to face Draco. "What would Young Master Malfoy like this time?"

"Well, I was thinking..." Draco started, slightly distracted by Severus drawing circles on his bare stomach with one finger. "It's like this...sometimes...aargh, why are these things so hard to explain...it's kind of like...OH FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, WOULD YOU STOP THAT?!"

Startled, Severus drew his hand back and looked at Draco right in the face, fear forming in his eyes. "I'm sorry..." he began to apologize.

"AND STOP THAT TOO!!! AAGH!!!"

"Stop what, Master? I'm sorry, but I really don't..." Blind panic at the thought of having done something wrong could be heard in his voice.

"THAT! All of that!" Draco yelled, before forcing himself to calm down. At the rate he was going, Severus would be groveling at his feet next, begging for mercy from some impending punishment that Draco would be forced to devise on the spur of the moment. And that would just ruin the point of this whole conversation in the first place.

Draco got up to pace nervously around the dungeon. Finally, after a couple of minutes of pacing, he thought he would try a new approach. He slowly turned to face Severus, who was by now, kneeling, prepared to do the bidding of his obviously perturbed master.

Draco sighed. All this submission certainly wasn't making anything easier. "I love you, Severus," he began.

"As I do you, Master Draco," interrupted Severus. He shuffled closer to Draco on his knees until he was kneeling right in front of Draco. "As I worship you, my lord. Let me show you how much I worship you..." he purred suggestively, while reaching up to the waistband of Draco's boxers to lower them and..._ahem_...prove the extent of his worship.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop it, will you?" he muttered and stepped away from Severus.

"But Master," said Severus, looking hurt. "I am here only for the sake of your pleasure. I am here to do your bidding."

"Okay, fine. In this case, my bidding is thus: just listen to me like a normal person for a second will you? I bid you to stop acting like..." and here Draco cringed, "...like my slave. Just for now. Indeed, this would give me a _great _amount of pleasure."

"But I am your slave, sir. Perhaps an unworthy..."

"BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANT!" screamed Draco, finally losing his temper. "I DON'T WANT A SLAVE! Not all the time, anyway! Do these ridiculous dynamics always have to exist?! Can't you love me, even if I'm not lording over you?!"

"But, sir..."

"AND STOP CALLING ME SIR!!!"

Severus looked taken aback. "So, in this case, Draco, what you're saying is that you don't want to be in control. That you don't want me to have to surrender my control to you. That you loathe the entire foundation our relationship is built on."

Draco felt a cold wave wash over him. This was not how it was supposed to be going. "But our relationship is built on love, isn't it? Like most other relationships?"

"Love?" Severus pshawed. "Love is not everything, Mister Malfoy. Surely, I thought you understood this? Love is nothing compared to power! I'm very disappointed; as a Slytherin, I expected you to know better. Now come, let us end this futile conversation..."

"NO!" yelled Draco, in increasing aggravation and panic. "You're saying you don't love me?"

"I respect you, Master Malfoy. Which is more important. I respect you, as I respected your father before you."

"So what you're saying," said Draco, slowly, with growing dread. "Is that you don't love me. You don't feel anything for me, except when I dominate you. That you won't feel anything from me if I stop."

"I would stop respecting you then, Malfoy, and I cannot feel for those I cannot respect."

"But when we kissed..." Draco started, now confused.

"Velvet-covered steel," Severus interrupted. Draco looked at him while Severus continued. "Velvet-covered steel," he repeated. "Most erotic, once you think about it..."

"Then those kisses; they meant nothing?"

"Velvet-covered steel," repeated Severus once more.

"I'm sorry, then, Severus," Draco whispered, his voice cracking. "But I can't..."

Severus looked surprised. "You can't what? Are you telling me that you don't want to continue in this? That you want to give this up for a piddling little thing such as _love_?"

"Goodbye, then, Severus," he whispered. Draco picked up his cloak, hastily threw it on over his boxers, and turned to leave.

"But you can't do this," Snape was spluttering. "You can't go. It's not that simple."

"Goodbye, Severus," Draco repeated, and stepped out into the hall. He walked away, not daring to look back in fear that he would find that he couldn't leave after all.

"TEN POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!" came the voice wafting out into the hall after him.

Draco continued walking. 


	3. In the corridor

Chapter 3

In the corridors

Draco walked down the hall in a most perturbed state of mind. He felt too numb to think of anything at the moment, and was afraid that if he even started to _try_ to think, he would burst into floods of tears. "Better save that till I get to my room," he thought. This was one of those times that being a prefect was obviously very useful. A couple of silencing charms on the room and a few unbreakable charms on the more fragile objects, and he could go in there to rant and scream and cry and throw things, and no one would be the wiser. In any case, he could think in peace there, without having to worry about random people barging in on him. 

He found himself walking faster and faster, in a desperate attempt to get to his room before things actually started sinking in. However, he was interrupted by the sound of hurrying footsteps behind him, and a breathless voice yelling, "Malfoy-_san_! Malfoy-_san_!" urgently.

Draco turned around to see a small figure running towards him down the length of the shadowy corridor. As the figure came closer, Draco could make out the Ravenclaw colours of the crest on the cloak the student was wearing, and a shock of spiky black hair that was more dishevelled than usual. Draco recognized the figure as one Yoshito Tanaka, a student from Japan who was from a very obviously influential Muggle family in those parts. Yoshito seemed to be a descendant of a very powerful family, and apparently the only wizard therein. In as much as Draco was disgusted by Mudbloods, he was equally attracted to people of power, and so did not consider Yoshito quite so low as, say, Granger, for example. In any case, Mudblood or no, the Tanaka family had offered Draco much in the way of incentive when they found out that he actually knew how to pull down the wards protecting Hogwarts. The deal had been that if he were to help the members of the Tanaka family see Yoshito whenever they needed to, he would be offered the full amount of protection they could possibly give him.

Now, this would theoretically not mean much to Draco, who, being a Malfoy, was quite obviously someone that no one would have the ridiculously bad judgement to touch. However, Draco knew that this would not always be the case. Not if he was going to carry out the resolution he had made to himself earlier never to become his father all over again, as his father had been about his grandfather, and his grandfather about his great-grandfather, and so on. He never really knew why he started having all these thoughts, when for the first ten years of his life, all he wanted to do was be "like Daddy" but then he granted it philosophically to the concept of teenage rebellion. In whatever case, Draco felt no real compunction to ever join the Death Eaters (of course, his father did not know this yet), be a dark wizard (though, he had to admit, knowing certain amounts of dark magic could come in useful now and then), or to ever grow his blatantly Malfoy hair out to waist length. Shoulder length, maybe, but waist length? Never.

In any case, seeing as that Draco would soon be out of the Malfoy fold, and that Draco knew it, he decided that the more protection he could get, the better. After all, who knew if one day he would be forced to flee to the Muggle world as a result of his temporary rebellious nature? And protection from a powerful and dangerous Muggle family...all the better. The only thing that puzzled him was the fact that when the head of the family called him in to give him the oath by which he would be guaranteed protection, the oath was given in the name of the Fujiwara family, instead of the Tanaka family. But anyway, Draco conceded, the man promising protection seemed to be rather powerful, and if he was willing to help, well then, so be it. They all seemed to be part of one large extended family called the Yakuza's anyway (at least, when they were talking, the name Yakuza had come up rather frequently), so what could a few discrepancies in name matter? At the moment, Draco had briefly considered asking to speak to Mr. Yakuza himself, but then decided that he would probably have to get in closer with the more influential members of the family to be allowed such a thing. 

To show his gratitude at the protection offered however, every month, Draco sent off a very polite note via owl post to Mr. Yakuza, thanking him for his kindness and confirming his willingness to keep working for him. He convinced himself that he was trying to be polite and maintain good relations, but a niggling feeling bothered him that if he didn't do something of the sort, he would be shot.

Somewhat oddly, the note was never answered by Mr. Yakuza himself, but rather by Mr. Fujiwara. Oh well, Draco concluded, Mr. Yakuza was a busy man, after all.

But whatever the case, Draco found himself suddenly accosted by the young Yoshito Tanaka and sighed. He was in no mood to have to deal with the fans right now. 

Yoshito had, by now, reached Draco, and promptly fell to his knees and bowed deeply. "Malfoy-_san_! _Onegai-simasu_!" and bowed again. 

Draco sighed an even deeper sigh. Why was it that these Japanese would have to insist in being unable to come up with a proper English line when they were feeling strong emotions of any sort? He granted that this was an exaggeration at the back of his mind, but for the time being, his frustration knew no bounds. On top of everything else, here was yet another person grovelling at his feet. Just what he needed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What is it this time, Tanaka? I really have no time to be fooling around right now."

"Oh, it is terrible, Malfoy-_san_!" Yoshito started breathlessly, as Draco wondered exactly what the significance of the -_san_ at the end of his name was. Never Malfoy or Draco, but always "Malfoy-_san_". If Draco ever found out what that meant, and it turned out to be some sort of an inside Japanese joke, he decided he would be pretty pissed. But for the time being, the kid was always respectful, so he guessed the kid could call him whatever he wanted, as long as he said it politely. 

Said kid however, was babbling consistently while Draco was thinking about what the English equivalent of -_san_ could possibly be. "...please, sir, if you don't it will be just like that case with the Empress and the three treasures at the bottom of the lake in _Tale of Heike_! And whatever will my family do then? It will bring dishonour to us all! Dishonour! You must help, Malfoy-_san_!" And here he bowed deeply again so that his forehead almost touched the top of Draco's bare feet, and repeated even more desperately, "_Onegai-simasu_!"

Draco sighed, yet again. "For the love of Salazar, Tanaka, get up and speak to me in a normal language! I can't make out half of what you're saying!"

"Oh, Malfoy_-san_! I have just received a crane from my father. It was a bit of trouble trying to get him to fit through the window, since cranes are so big and all, but we managed somehow anyway. Owls are rather rare in our part of the world, you see, and..." Yoshito babbled nervously as he picked himself up off the floor.

"Never mind that, Tanaka," Draco interrupted irritatedly. "What did the letter from your father say?"

"Oh, Malfoy-_san_! You must help us! My father needs to see me immediately and he is coming tonight and there is no way he can get in with his friends! And oh, I am so glad I found you...you have helped so many times before...and you have always been loyal to my father! I humbly request you to please help me again!" And at this, he dropped to the floor yet once more, bowed, and pleaded. "_Onegai-simasu_!"

"If you don't get off the floor, Tanaka, I swear to you that I'm not going to do anything. I have had an exceedingly bad evening, and having you grovel at my feet is not helping it any," Draco started, as he considered possibly being a nice guy and helping young Yoshito out. Realising that he had pretty much no choice, as this _was_ his part of the bargain, and faced with the same disturbing thought of potentially being shot (irrational as that was), he decided to be charitable. Not that he had any choice, really. "All right," he said with a resigned sigh. "Let's go let your dad in."

A suddenly elated and energetic Yoshito jumped up and grabbed Draco around the waist in an exuberant ten year old's hug. "_Arigatou_ _gozaimasu,_ Malfoy-_sempai_!" he mumbled into Draco's shirt. Draco groaned. He simply _had_ to get a Japanese to English dictionary one of these days.


	4. At the lakeagain

Chapter 4

At the Lake...again

The giant squid was bored. With the arrival of Harry Potter on the banks, the squid could just not take it any longer and had sunk to the depths of the lake where he kept his only source of entertainment. His waterproof Sony Discman. One of the funny men in dark suits had most charitably presented him with this a few months ago, when he had pulled one of these men out of the lake after he had fallen in by mistake. Since then, every month, a gift wrapped CD would be delivered to him on the fourteenth of the month. This month's was a cover band for the famous 80's group "Boyz II Squid", called "The New Squids on the Block." Their newest single ("Squids just wanna have fun"), the squid had to admit, was rather catchy.

However, after listening to the song on repeat for the last three hours, the squid was now sick of it. He drifted up to the surface to see if young Potter had left, thus rendering the banks of the lake peaceful once more. Upon reaching the surface, he was disappointed to find Potter still moping (albeit more quietly than earlier). Decidedly more bored listening to music than he would be listening to the rambling angst of confused teenagers, the squid decided to remain on the surface and take a lap around the lake, hoping that maybe one corner of the lake would be devoid of human life.

The squid floated lethargically over to the other side of the lake and caught a glimpse of a group of men in long black cloaks and masks that were obviously designed to be frightening, but ended up drawing the line at mildly startling. They seemed to be practicing casting spells into the air that would emit a wisp of green smoke out of the wand that would form something resembling a skull with a couple of serpents coming out of the mouth. "How grotesque," the squid thought and amused himself momentarily by rearranging the smoke in his head to something a little more appealing to one's aesthetic senses. Five minutes later, he settled on something that he found more appealing to think about when he imagined green smoke and his period of amusement was over. But then he realised that he could prolong it by casting the wandless spell that he picked up over the [500] years that would actually reassemble the wisps of smoke to what he imagined them to be. He amused himself for a while with this, until the men looked more and more perturbed. One or two of them actually took off their masks to make sure that they were seeing correctly. The squid decided that enough was enough after rearranging the smoke to form the lyrics of "Squids just wanna have fun", twice, and went back to his rounds of the lake.

Further along the same bank, he saw a congregation of the men in dark suits huddling under a tree, obviously thinking that they were well concealed. They seemed to be hovering around waiting for something, and the squid was willing to bet four of his eight tentacles that it was for the youngest Malfoy to let them into the building. The squid mentally made this bet against himself (after all, he had nothing to lose), and proceeded onward.

Further down, the Professor that was tied to a willow tree on the other side of the lake just a few weeks earlier was walking around obviously in a philosophical state of mind. The squid paused briefly to listen.

"I just don't understand!" the Professor was exclaiming to himself, rather dramatically. "He wasn't supposed to leave! I thought I was simply setting straight the dynamics of our relationship...how could this have happened?! And I even took points off my own house! Why?! Oh, why?!..." he babbled and threw himself on the ground sobbing loudly. He continued babbling.

The squid groaned to himself and beat a hasty retreat. First angsty students, and now angsty Professors. Would the angst never end?

Yet further along the banks of the lake, the youngest Malfoy was lurking around and waving his wand around in the direction of the walls around the castle Hogwarts was housed in. "I knew it!" the squid thought in triumph and mentally congratulated himself on winning his own bet. Not that he either won or lost anything, but it was a momentary ego boost if nothing else.

After the squid had returned to the point where he began, he noticed that Potter was still sitting there, moaning audibly. It was at this point that he decided that there was nothing on the surface that was of any interest at all whatsoever, and decided to go back down to his abode at the bottom of the lake. True, he was almost out of batteries, and his monthly shipment of CD and batteries still had about four days until it was delivered, but with any luck, he just might find a wayward electric eel wandering around that he could convince and/or bribe to let him plug in the power cord attachment into. The new "Color Me Squidd" album was waiting to be listened to, after all.

_________________________________________________

Draco had finished letting the wards down, and decided, since it was such a nice night and all, to go for a little walk around the lake to get some fresh air, and perhaps even clear his mind a little. He walked along, relishing the feel of dewy blades of grass under his bare feet and the relative blankness of his mind until he tripped over something rather large.

"OW!" Draco exclaimed, as he turned around to see who or what he had tripped over. "Potter! What on earth are you doing here?"

Harry, who had just noticed that he was tripped over turned to face Draco with a look so miserable that even the heart of a Slytherin that was Draco's, softened.

"Potter?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" inquired Harry in a tired tone of voice. "If you're here to give me a hard time, I'm really not in the mood."

Draco's slightly molten heart started to refreeze at this not-so-warm welcome. "Contrary to popular belief, Potter," he started, "my world does not revolve around hunting you down and making your life miserable. As amusing a pasttime as this might be."

Harry sighed, and turned his head around so that he could look over the lake once more. Draco, also in a pensive frame of mind, gazed out over the still waters that were occasionally disturbed by random tentacles waving around as though they were conducting an orchestra.

Draco, after a few minutes of amiable silence (or as amiable a silence between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could possibly be), oberved, "Nice night eh, Potter?"

"Mmm," Harry replied, in a state of increasing articulation.

"A perfect night for emotional torment," Draco observed again, this time to himself.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy in emotional torment?" he thought. He was curious. "Why the angst, Malfoy?" he asked Draco.

Draco sighed. He considered telling Harry, just for the sake of letting it out to someone, but then realised that this might not be a good idea for the sole reason that Harry could use this as fuel for the annoying-Draco-as-much-as-humanly-possible fire that Harry consistently seemed to be keeping aflame. At the same time, he conceded, if Harry were willing to commiserate, they would be even, and no one could use anything said as ammunition against the other. "If I tell you, Potter, will you tell me why you are sitting here, obstructing the nighttime strolls of souls in anguish?"

"Sure, why not?" Harry responded unassumingly. "But if this gets out, Malfoy, I will make sure you regret it until the day we graduate."

"Fair enough," complied Draco. "It goes like this: Draco desires relationship. Draco is involved with certain man who will heretofore remain unnamed. Draco falls in love, or at least he thinks he does. Draco discovers that unnamed person does not love him, as Draco thought he did. Draco does not know what to do, but realises that he would rather be in Gryffindor than be in a relationship that does not have love as its base. Draco breaks up with said boyfriend. Draco is perturbed and decides to go on midnight stroll. Draco trips over sworn archenemy and then decides to confide in him for reasons still unknown. And here Draco remains still..."

"HOLY SHIT, MALFOY! You were in love with Snape?! And I thought I had problems..."

Draco buried his face in his hands. "And thank you, Potter, for that extremely untactful outburst of...of...whatever it was..."

"Sorry," muttered Harry. "It just came as bit of a surprise."

"So what are you sitting out here for?" asked Draco, more than ready to turn the tables away from himself.

Harry looked away from Draco and sighed again. "I suppose I have to tell you don't I?"

"Well, considering that was part of our deal, I guess so, Potter," Draco replied, now getting slighly curious.

"Well, my story goes something like this," Harry started. "Harry Potter is famous at Hogwarts for reasons that are beyond his control. Along with Harry's fame, there came much popularity, and two best friends, whom Harry would have given his life for. However, aforementioned two best friends have since then discovered each other, and spend all of their time with the other. Harry is left out in the cold. Regardless of Harry's popularity, he really has no other friends that come remotely close to understanding him at all whatsoever. Harry wishes someone would understand him. Harry is lonely and depressed. Harry goes on frequent walks by the lake. Harry takes one of these walks one night and is tripped over by sworn archenemy. Harry starts speaking like Dobby..."

Mmm," Draco surmised. "So sworn archenemies are in the same boat for once, eh? Misunderstood and lonely."

Guess so."

"Guess so." "Why do you suppose this happens, Potter?"

"Why do you suppose what happens?"

"This! All of this!! I mean, here we are, two relatively desirable men, even though you're from Gryffindor and all, but I guess for a Gryffindor, you're relatively desirable as far as the lower ranks of the human hierarchy are concerned..." 

"God, Malfoy. Did you sit here merely for the sake of ragging on me yet again? Because if you did..." 

"Sorry, Potter. Went off on a bit of a tangent there didn't I? Anyway, as I was saying...here we are. Two, oh fine, I'll say it...decent...guys who mean no harm to anyone except perhaps, each other, and what happens? We get screwed over. It's an injustice! Injustice, I SAY!" 

Harry shot Draco a weird look. Clearly, Draco was a very odd person, but finally, someone understood! Even if it was Draco Malfoy. Harry felt the years-long utter loathing start to give way to sympathy of sorts. 


End file.
